


Beautiful Loser

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Drug Abuse, M/M, Mentions of underage (not explicit), Minor Character Death, Multi, Multiple Partners, Nudist Sam Winchester, Open Relationships, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Team Free Will Big Bang 2017, working through past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Castiel Novak thought he'd finally moved on from the trauma of his adolescence spent in foster care -- he's got a boyfriend, Sam, that he loves more than anything, an awesome job working at one of his favorite bookstores... what more could he ask for? Then a stark reminder of that awful pain sends him hurdling backwards and forces him to deal with emotions he long buried.As he learns to cope, he also learns to help another dealing with very similar demons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a very extreme idea, and somehow turned into a soft and cushy love story. Special thanks to coplins and outoftheashes for cheering me on every step of the way (lord knows I needed a lot of it).
> 
>  
> 
> [Art by the wonderful kuwlshadow can be found here!](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/165723786513/title-beautiful-loser-author-archofimagine)

\--- **March, 1998** \---

* * *

It was house number four. For over eighteen months he had been in the ‘system’... jumping from house to house while his drug addict mom served time in prison for possession and prostitution. The first house had been great, until the dad got a job and the family had to move. The second house? Same story, perfectly fine and then a distant relative got sick and suddenly the family couldn’t handle things. House three was altogether forgettable.

Which left him at house four; a double wide trailer surrounded by grass that was a few weeks past needing to be cut. There were four other foster kids living there, but since he was the odd number five, he lucked out and had his own room for a few months in the back of the house. It had a ratty old full sized mattress on the floor and a third-time-around hand-me-down dresser, but it was _his._

Until child number six showed up and suddenly not only was he sharing a room with the new kid, but also a bed. _’You can fight to see who sleeps on the floor, or you can learn to share,’_ his foster mom stated, showing the new boy to the room.

 _Slash_ , as he demanded to be called, was three years older than Castiel was at twelve. He seemed so domineering, a fifteen-year-old standing in the doorway and quickly sizing him up. But instead of arguing over the mattress, Slash grunted, tossed his bag on the floor, and told Cas that he better not snore.

Over the next few weeks, he learned to live with the situation. His foster parents weren’t abusive — maybe a bit neglectful, but there was food and heat and he had seen worse — so he got used to things and prayed that he wouldn’t have to move again. He started to like school, found a few teachers that actually seemed to enjoy their jobs, and settled into a routine.

Slash remained altogether aloof, until one day he came home angry, smelling of alcohol and growling under his breath about _’that bitch.’_ Cas figured it had something to do with the girl that he had seen hanging around the edges of the trailer park, and over at the skate park where the high school kids hung out — the one Castiel had to walk past on his way home. 

It was that night, while Slash was drunk and angry at life, that the boy started to change. Suddenly the bed was too small, and Castiel began to lose sleep when touches started drifting over the expanse of mattress. Everything was gentle until it wasn’t, as soon as a protest was uttered, suddenly the touches became angry. Too much power and control and Castiel woke up every morning feeling a little less like himself.

 _’If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you in your sleep. Make it look like an accident. No one will miss another system kid.’_

It was, of course, Castiel’s luck that the one time he would end up stuck in a house, would also be the time that the house left him in the worst situation. With the threat always looming, though, he had no way of telling too-stressed social workers or uncaring foster parents about the things that were happening in his room late at night. Slash was right… _no one cared._ Even teachers that had actually seemed to care about his well being, didn’t speak up when he’d come in limping and make a pile out of his sweatshirt before sitting at his desk.

Three years. Three _long_ years, he dealt with Slash’s abuse. Even when the older boy was dating a new high school girl, he still came back to Cas’ bed at night. When they were finally in the same school, torture moved to daytime hours when Slash made an excuse about making sure Castiel got home ‘safely’ but then detoured to the woods. Castiel had long since lost his virginity by the time Slash showed him to the backseat of the old beater he was driving.

There was nowhere to hide until _finally_ , two months before his eighteenth birthday, Slash packed a bag and ran away with a local girl. 

Castiel practically cried tears of joy when, after a week, they still hadn’t heard from the boy. But then, two days later, his case worker showed up and gave him the news that they were moving him to a new home.

He could have punched a wall, if he had more strength. Three years of abuse, and when it finally stopped… _then_ they decided to move him.

Stupid. Fucking. System.


	2. Chapter 2

\--- **Portland, Oregon — Present Day** \---

* * *

_“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets_

* * *

It was during the thirty minute train ride back to his apartment in Beaverton, Oregon, that Castiel could finally find the ability to let his mind relax. He wasn’t a fan of working downtown Portland, but loved his job surrounded by books at the place that Portlanders lovingly called _’The City of Books.’_

Smooshed into the window seat beside a woman and an unhappy baby, Cas resituated his earbuds and let the soft jazz melodies tune out the rush hour crowds on the MAX. 

They cruised quickly through the tunnel under the west hills and the zoo, before sliding back into the sunlight and heading for Sunset Transit Center. A few more stops and he heard the speaker announcing his stop.

_”Next Stop: Millikan Way.”_

Thankfully the mother had gotten off at the zoo, so he didn’t have to strategically climb over her and her child. Carrying his backpack, he continued to listen to his music as he stepped off the train and began the short walk to his nearby apartment complex. Ten minutes later, after a quick stop to check the mail, he opened the front door and finally pulled the earbuds out. 

Immediately, the sound of slow jazz was replaced by a peaceful humming from the kitchen. He finally felt like smiling for the first time in hours, as he dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, before walking into the kitchen.

Across the granite island, he watched as his boyfriend stood swaying gently and singing a song that was playing only in his mind.

Sam, as per usual, was completely naked as he mixed batches of cookies and laid perfectly lined drops of dough on a baking sheet.

They had dated three months before Sam had shyly informed Castiel that he was secretly a nudist. His living arrangement back then had been limiting, since he was in an apartment with three other roommates, but he had gone on a few weekend trips to a nudist camp on Mount Hood and absolutely loved the freedom it brought and the way it made him feel. When they moved in together, almost a year ago, Castiel had kissed him and promised that the space was all theirs and Sam never had to wear clothes unless he wanted to.

To be fair, Castiel got just as much joy out of watching his boyfriend bounce around the two bedroom apartment naked, as Sam did. 

His eyes slowly scanned from broad, well-muscled shoulders, to lean hips and Castiel’s favorite ass in the world. On his days off, his favorite pastime was to literally _worship_ that ass.

“You’re such a fuckin’ voyeur,” Sam called over his shoulder, without turning around.

Cas snorted, finally moving around the kitchen island and pressing up against Sam’s lean body. He placed a kiss along one of those amazing shoulders and answered, “Anyone in my situation would do the same thing, love.”

Sam turned his head and kissed Cas on the nose, “Sure, but I still think you’re a pervert.” He turned back to what he was mixing, grabbing a cookie from a nearby pan and turning in Castiel’s arms so that he could hold the cookie to his lips. “Try this. Mexican chocolate chip.”

“Ohhh.” Dating a baker meant always being the ‘guinea pig’ for new recipes, but Castiel had yet to find one that he wouldn’t try again. He opened his mouth, patiently waiting for Sam to drop the morsel on his tongue. The immediate taste of chocolate was soon followed by a distinct spiciness that had his eyes opening in surprise. “ _Wow_ ,” he said, once he’d swallowed the bite. “I was _not_ expecting that.” 

“Isn’t it great? The trick is to add cayenne pepper.”

His boyfriend always looked so proud, when he had successfully pleased someone with one of his creations. Cas shook his head in amusement and leaned up to kiss Sam’s lips. The kiss was chaste — Sam had a ‘no sex and baking’ rule — but it was enough to remind Castiel of how much he loved the other man. “I’m going to change my clothes. Any plans for dinner?”

“I stopped by to get a Papa Murphy’s pizza.” Sam had already turned back to his mixing bowls, “Hey,” he called after Cas, making Castiel pause in the hallway, “You’re still off this weekend right? Three day holiday weekend?”

“Yeah, why?”

Sam looked up, rolling his eyes at Cas. “Apparently my long-lost brother whom I haven’t heard from is getting married this Saturday. I got the invitation in the mail today.”

“Whoa.” Castiel frowned, fingers working to loosen his tie as he tried to remember all of the times Sam had discussed his brother. They were few and far between — apparently Dean Winchester had started dating someone and all but fell off the map. Needless to say, Cas had never met the man and only knew what he looked like thanks to a couple of Sam’s family photos on the wall. “Where at?” They didn’t really have the money to buy last minute plane tickets…

“Thankfully, it’s just over at the coast. I already called to book us a room.”

“Ohhh, hotel sex. _Fun._ ”

Sam laughed, “Go change your clothes you pervert!”

* * *

On Friday, Castiel asked if he could get off work early, and took the train home before meeting Sam at their apartment. They had spent the previous night making sure that everything was packed for their weekend, and by the time Cas got home, the car was already loaded with their suitcase. They headed out right after, Sam in the driver’s seat of his old Honda Accord, as they set off on the two and a half hour journey to the coast. Even though he had lived so close to the Oregon Coast for years now, Castiel hardly ever found himself visiting the place. During the winter it was mostly cold storms and fog, and in the summer? Tourists. It also didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten his driver’s license until he and Sam had been dating for six months and Sam had helped him through the anxiety of practicing and taking the tests.

He still preferred public transportation, though.

The drive went smoothly, filled with discussions of the vineyards they were passing and gentle squeezes to Sam’s right hand that Castiel held throughout much of the trip. Sam was, essentially, his first serious boyfriend. Most of his previous ‘relationships’ had lasted no more than three months, and had never included extended intimacy or knowledge of each other and the other person’s feelings. He had struggled to open up to a lot of people, after a very rough childhood, but for some reason had found a connection in Sam, that blossomed into romance and eventually love.

Castiel never expected to be a cuddler until he met the great Sam Winchester. In fact, he had spent much of the first thirty years of his life _despising_ being touched. Sam, of course, was patient and understanding and never pushed Castiel farther than he wanted to go. It was that gentle spirit that made him so easy to love.

They drove through the small town of Lincoln City, passing kite shops and kitsch beach knick-knack storefronts, before heading beyond along the Siletz Bay. Castiel looked out his window, staring at the large houses that ran along a small strip of land on the other side of the bay. He could never understand the concept of building a house where one large wave could easily wash everything away…

The blinker flicked on, bringing his attention back to where Sam was turning left and driving up a hill towards the Salishan resort that was hidden amongst the trees. “Fancy,” Cas mused, as Sam drove around the portico and stopped in front of the main lodge entrance.

“Apparently Dean’s future husband is loaded.”

“I hope they gave a family discount on the room rate.”

Sam snorted, “Let’s just say that it may have been cheaper to fly to Vegas.”

So much for their ‘rental upgrade’ savings fund, Cas thought. He wouldn’t complain though; if he had a sibling, he would definitely want to be in attendance at their wedding. And since Sam had gone so long without hearing from his brother, he really deserved to be there.

Castiel waited patiently in the car while Sam went to check them in, and when his boyfriend was back in the car, they drove the short ways further up the hill to where their room was located. Thankfully the place seemed to be worth the expense, because Castiel was very impressed by the soft looking king-sized bed, and the large windows looking out over the bay and on beyond to the ocean. He set his backpack down on the desk by the television and turned back to where Sam was wheeling their suitcase inside. 

Once the door was closed, Castiel jumped backwards onto the bed. “We have an hour until the dinner, right?”

With a smile, Sam leaned back and glanced into the bathroom. “Shower is pretty big. Want a blowjob?”

“You know, come to think of it, I am feeling a little dirty—”

* * *

The rehearsal dinner was scheduled to take place in the same banquet room of the main lodge that the wedding would be held in the next day. Once dressed in casual dinner attire, Sam and Castiel decided to walk the path back to the lodge instead of bother with the car. Castiel smiled, happily curling his fingers through Sam’s as they walked. “Do you ever think about marriage?” he asked, curious gaze looking over at his boyfriend.

“Sometimes. I would love the opportunity to promise my life to someone. I wouldn’t go to this big elaborate expense, though.” Sam turned to meet his eyes. “I’d just fly you down to Vegas and marry you in front of Elvis.”

Castiel chuckled, “I was just thinking about how it would have been easier if this last minute wedding thing was in Vegas — although we probably wouldn’t have had the funds for a flight.” 

“Every time we have to dip into the new house fund, I get a little sad,” Sam stated, squeezing Cas’ hand. “Because I _really_ want that privacy fence and hot tub.”

Of course he did — every nudist dreamed of one day having a privacy fence. “We could have a backyard nudist wedding.”

Sam stopped suddenly, a hand against his chest, “Castiel Novak… don’t _tease me_ like that!” He seemed to stand there contemplating that idea for a long time, before his eyes finally got big and he looked over to Castiel. “You could wear nothing but a black bowtie!”

“I feel like this is actually going to be a thing now…”

As Sam began walking once more, his hand securely tucked into Castiel’s and pulling him along, he continued throwing out ideas. “I could make a cake topper out of fondant that had two nude guys. It’d, of course, have to be a summer wedding. Maybe if we haven’t found our house by next summer, we could rent out the perfect vacation rental for the event?”

“Sam—”

“I could also wear a bowtie, but I’m actually kind of fond of wearing a white and black laced collar…”

“Sammy.”

“Do you think our guests would actually be okay with being nude for the event? Or would it have to be clothing optional?”

“Sam!” He stopped walking, finally gaining Sam’s attention once more. Once hazel eyes were focused on him, Castiel smiled, “Will you marry me?”

“I—”

Cas grinned. “We can’t plan a wedding without a proper proposal.”

There wasn’t a clearly stated answer, but Castiel suddenly had a gigantic moose of a boyfriend clinging to him, one leg wrapped around his thigh while Sam pulled him closer and kissed a few dozen times.

That was a good enough _’yes’_ for Cas.


	3. Chapter 3

The ballroom had been transformed into some kind of weird wildlife adventure. Castiel was fairly certain that five of the trees around the room were _real_ and had been uprooted and moved indoors for the event. And was that a… elk rack hanging on one wall?

“Is this a wedding or a hunting lodge?” Cas whispered over to Sam. Sam responded with a soft chuckle, before guiding Castiel through the crowd of people to where he apparently saw his brother.

“Dean!” Sam called, moving past a couple of old grumpy women. Castiel watched in fascination as the two brothers spotted each other and immediately moved close for a bone-crushing hug. It seemed so odd to witness such affection between two men that apparently hadn’t spoken in years…

He had kind of expected Dean to be a dick that only invited Sam because of responsibility. 

Judging by the way Dean buried his nose against Sam’s neck and breathed him in, holding on longer than a normal hug, that wasn’t the case. When the brothers finally broke apart, Sam pulled Cas closer by their hands that were still entangled. 

“Dean, this is my fiance, Castiel.”

And, _okay_ , maybe Cas got a bit light headed at that particular title. He grinned at Sam, before reaching out his free hand to shake Dean’s. “Pleasure. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Of course,” Dean glanced around the room for a moment, before looking back at them, “couldn’t get hitched without my little brother in attendance.” His gaze glued onto Sam, “I hadn’t heard that you were engaged, Sammy.”

“It maybe just happened,” he replied, scratching shyly at the back of his neck. “Something about attending weddings makes you realize that you’re crazy in love and want to have one of your own.”

“Awesome!” Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder jovially. “Congrats!”

Castiel looked around the room, trying to see if he could figure out which of the mingling people was Dean’s betrothed. “Do we get to meet your fiance, Dean?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

The happiness dropped away from Dean’s face. “Unfortunately, Benny had to make a last minute trip out on the boat. Something about a late salmon run and if he wanted to catch it in time to take the honeymoon off, he had to miss tonight. He’ll be getting back early in the morning, and his best friend Cain is stepping in tonight for the rehearsal.” Dean pointed across the room to a tall man with salt and pepper hair. “He’s the best man, and promised Benny he’d make sure everything went as planned.”

Castiel was fairly certain that it was the words _best man_ that had Sam stiffening next to him and gripping Cas’ hand a little tighter. Understandably so… Sam hadn’t mentioned that he was invited to take part in the ceremony at all. 

“Is Uncle Bobby here yet?” Sam asked, voice a little rough.

“Oh.” Dean avoided his brother’s gaze. “We actually… we ran out of room on the guest list. Benny’s got a big family. Lots of local friends and stuff. So the seats filled up quick. I talked to Bobby though and he was scheduled to be up in Montana this week on a deer tag.”

Even to Castiel, who had only met ‘Uncle’ Bobby (the man who had raised Sam and Dean) on two separate occasions, the story sound absolutely forced and fake. Bobby was, of course, an avid hunter, but Castiel had no doubt that the man would drop everything and be at Dean’s wedding in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d probably be the first one signed up to go au naturale at Cas and Sam’s wedding. He loved his boys unconditionally.

“I have to uh—” Dean motioned across the room, “go make nice with a couple great aunts and make sure the catering is all set. I’ll talk to you guys in a bit. I think you’re at table five. Maybe we can grab a beer later?”

Without waiting, Dean was off, scurrying across the wood floor to meet up with Cain, who was eyeballing Sam and Cas with a look of mild aggravation.

“So,” Cas whispered, feeling the awkwardness settle around them.

“At least he’s happy,” Sam mused.

And Castiel knew Sam well enough to know when he was lying.

* * *

The problem with Benny’s ‘family’ was the fact that they all seemed to be gypsies that wanted to get wildly drunk and make a mess of themselves. Sam and Castiel barely made it through dinner, before Sam was giving Cas a look that clearly said he needed an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, no one even noticed they were sneaking out early — they were all too busy in their own rowdy behavior. 

The walk back to their room was mostly silent, and once they were shut up inside the suite, Castiel could see the weight of the world resting on the shoulders of the man he loved. He stepped forward, slowly and carefully stripping Sam out of his dinner clothes. Sam always relaxed a fraction more once naked. When the clothes were piled on the floor, Cas pushed his _fiancé_ down onto the bed and began to slowly track kisses along the length of his perfectly tan skin.

“Cas,” Sam whispered reverently. 

With a soft smile, Castiel caught his gaze as he placed another kiss on Sam’s left hipbone. “You’re so important to me, Sam,” he breathed. “More important than anyone else in my life.” He laid his head down on the softer part of Sam’s stomach and slowly brushed a hand up and down Sam’s left thigh, admiring the perfect musculature. “You are my life.”

It wasn’t enough, of course, to completely eliminate the heartache that had registered thanks to Dean’s not-so-subtle brush-off, but it was enough to relax Sam and bring him back to the moment. From there, Castiel got up long enough to find the bottle of lube they had packed and took slow and delicate steps to prep his lover. Sam wasn’t anything close to being ‘delicate’... but sometimes Cas liked to make him feel like he was anyways. It was such a contradiction, and he loved it.

They made love slow and easy, with Castiel reminding Sam over and over that he was precious and Cas was going to love him forever.

* * *

When Castiel woke up the next morning, he rolled over to face Sam and smiled at the sight of the other man sitting naked in bed, his laptop open and face concentrating as he typed quickly. Instead of making a noise and disrupting the concentration on his fiancé's face, Cas remained quiet and simply watched. After a couple more moments, a ringing sounded and Castiel watched as Sam pulled up a Skype call session. Cas snuggled closer so he could watch as Sam opened the window and suddenly a zoomed in image of Uncle Bobby’s nose popped up on the screen. Cas bit his lip to keep from laughing, as he and Sam watched Bobby slowly get the camera situated properly.

The old man looked grumpy and scraggly, like usual, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I don’t know why you bought me this thing, Sam,” Bobby grumbled, leaning forward again and continuing to fidget with the camera. “Never works.”

“It’s working now,” Sam answered. “Stop tinkering.”

“Boy, I swear—”

“I know, I know. It’s a fifteen minute Skype call, Bobby, you’ll survive.”

Cas lifted his head up from where it was resting against Sam’s thigh, so that he could be seen on the video. “Hey, Bobby.”

Bobby nodded his head in his trademark ‘hello’ fashion, “Cas. What did you think about meeting our boy Dean?”

“Seemed like a nice guy. Half expected him to be naked but I guess nudist is not a genetic family trait.”

There was a soft shove at his shoulder from Sam, but Castiel could easily feel the other man chuckling right along with his uncle.

“Shoulda seen Sam when he was a little boy, running around the yard wearin’ nothing but tennis shoes; little willy waving to the neighbors.” Bobby smiled, looking a bit reminiscent. “One time he ran out when Dean was getting dropped off by his first girlfriend… I don’t think Dean’s ever forgiven him for that embarrassment.”

“Hey Bobby,” Sam finally spoke, voice serious enough to wipe his uncle’s smile away for the moment. When Bobby gave a soft grunt in response, Sam asked… “Why aren’t you here?”

“You know there is no place else I’d rather be, Sam,” Bobby responded. “But I don’t go where I’m not welcome. I had an invite and got a call a few weeks back from Dean’s husband-to-be, saying that Dean didn’t have the nerve to tell me himself, but there wasn’t really room and they were down to making a choice between you or me.” On the screen, it was easy to see how sad Bobby’s smile was. “He needs his brother more than some scraggly old uncle.”

* * *

“I don’t get it.”

“It was Dean’s choice,” Cas reminded for the eighth time.

“But, if he made that choice… why did he lie to me and say Bobby couldn’t make it? I would have understood.”

Castiel squeezed Sam’s hand as the continued to walk the short path back to the main lodge. They had about thirty minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to start, but decided since they were ready that they would make their way over early. “I know it’s hard, Sam, but we can’t change the way things are now. All we can do is enjoy the wedding and call Bobby later to tell him all about it. I even promised to take pictures and email them to him.”

The rest of the walk was quiet, and when they finally arrived at the ballroom, Sam clung a little tighter to Castiel’s hand as he walked up to where an usher stood patiently by the door wearing a well pressed suit. “I’m uh… Sam Winchester? Dean’s brother?”

The man looked down at a clipboard in his hand, scanning what was obviously a seating chart. “Right, you’ll be at table fourteen for dinner, and may sit anywhere on the left side of the room for the ceremony, except the first three rows.”

Granted, he hadn’t been to a lot of weddings in his lifetime — not many people invited the weird foster kid to see them get hitched, a problem made even more serious by the fact that he didn’t have family to invite him either — but Castiel had seen enough movies to know that traditionally it was _family_ sitting in the first three rows. He opened his mouth, ready to argue that point, when he saw the emotion in Sam’s eyes and thought better of it. “Come on,” he whispered, pulling Sam into the room that they had already seen the night before. It looked just as gaudy as before, but was now filled with even more people milling around. By the time they found two seats together (beyond row three, left side), they were actually in row _eight_ , stuck in the middle between a couple old ladies wearing ridiculous hats, and an old man who smelt like weed and the ocean. 

Row eight also happened to be the last row, which maybe made things worse. Castiel could see the extra seats reserved for family, and turned his head to kiss chastely at Sam’s jaw. “I think we deserve double cake servings after this,” he whispered, making sure the people around wouldn’t hear them.

Sam snorted, but it didn’t take being in love for almost a year, for Castiel to see that the smile on his face was fake.

They sat quietly as the next few minutes passed and people settled into the rest of the available seats. By the time the ceremony was due to start, every chair was filled and the low murmur of voices finally died down. A soft music began to play and one by one they all turned to face the back of the room. A trail of couples slowly began walking down the aisle between seats, all dressed identically and moving to the edges of the altar once they arrived. Next, the tune changed and everyone’s attention was drawn to where Dean was walking into the ballroom in an expensive looking tuxedo. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, Dean’s smile looked just as forced as Sam’s — maybe it was a Winchester brother trait. 

The doors closed behind Dean with a soft click, and Castiel frowned, whispering softly to Sam, “Where’s—” before his eyes found the front of the room again and his blood ran cold.

There was obviously a second door at the front of the room, because at some point Cain had entered with a man that Castiel could only assume was Dean’s husband-to-be, Benny.

Cas felt like he might faint right there in his seat, as he watched Dean reach the altar and the ceremony begin. 

_That_ was Benny? 

It had been almost twenty years, but Castiel would never forget that face… those eyes. 

“Cas?” Sam whispered.

Cas blinked slowly, turning to face his fiance and following Sam’s hazel gaze down to where Castiel was gripping Sam’s hand hard enough to make the tips of Sam’s fingers red. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky at best, and all of the ‘coping’ mechanisms that numerous therapists had tried to teach him were suddenly blown out of the water. Even knowing that he was holding Sam’s hand too tight, he couldn’t seem to make his fingers cooperate long enough to let go. 

“Cas?” Sam repeated, voice still quiet enough not to disrupt the ceremony, while also holding a tinge of worry. 

His skin started to tingle, his vision getting a bit blurred, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. _Run_ , a voice in his mind spoke. _Go. Go now._

Dropping Sam’s hand, he stood in a rush, almost enough to make his chair fall backwards. To the left, the row of chairs ended at a wall, so he was forced to climb over Sam on his right, as well as the old maids that glared vehemently at him. He didn’t notice, didn’t care. He was almost to the freedom of the aisle where he could make a quick escape out of the back door, when his foot snagged on the large taupe colored bag of the woman sitting in the last seat. 

Too unsteady on his feet as it was, he went flying into the aisle with a deep thud on the wood floor. When he stood, he realized suddenly that the attention of the entire room was focused on him.

Castiel turned, facing the front altar and coming face to face with the eyes that starred in all of his worst nightmares. 

He was frozen in fear, chest racing and _suddenly_ in shame, he felt the situation get even worse as a warmth blossomed on the front of his pants. 

Despite everything, despite the humiliation, with those eyes connected with his, Castiel couldn’t move. He stood like a statue facing the entire room and not seeing anyone but the kid that had ruined his life. 

A solid mass was suddenly there, lifting him like he weighed nothing and carrying him from the room. He couldn’t focus to hear Sam whispering that it would be okay, in his ear. All he could feel was pain, all he could hear was a teenage voice calling him pretty in a sickeningly melodic tone.

All he could see was _Slash_. Over him. In him. Pinning him down. 

Making him bleed.

Making him a shattered out, hollow little boy.


	4. Chapter 4

\--- **Portland, Oregon — Six Months Later** \---

* * *

_“But even when I stop crying, even when we fall asleep and I'm nestled in his arms, this will leave another scar. No one will see it. No one will know. But it will be there. And eventually all of the scars will have scars, and that's all I'll be--one big scar of a love gone wrong.” ― Amanda Grace, But I Love Him_

* * *

When he was a boy, Castiel dealt with his trauma by internalizing everything and, for the most part, becoming mute. Upon seeing _Slash_ again, that reaction returned and despite the best of Sam’s efforts, there were no explanations given for why he had reacted so traumatically at the wedding. 

Instead, Sam fell easily into the caregiver role, taking Cas back to their room and helping to get him cleaned up — which was an experience in and of itself, since there was no way Castiel could handle someone touching or seeing him _down there_. Every time Sam ran the washcloth down the length of Castiel’s stomach, coming near the top of his wet boxers, Castiel let out a pained whimper. Finally, Sam had gently laid the cloth in Cas’ hand, kissed his temple, and left him alone in the bathroom.

Castiel hadn’t slept that night — too afraid that the nightmares would be back with a vengeance — so he sat for most of the evening wrapped in a blanket on the room’s balcony and watching the dark shape of the bay through the trees.

He napped a little in the car on the way home the next morning, but jolted against the window more than a few times when he could suddenly hear that voice whispering in his ear again. See those blue eyes darkening with intent.

At home, Castiel gave Sam a sad smile before carrying his bag into the spare bedroom. He wanted to explain. Wanted to apologize for the way he knew he would be acting, but it was too hard to verbalize his thoughts, so he didn’t.

The first week was hard, and he barely got any sleep. One day, he came home to Sam standing naked in the kitchen like always, and watched his partner’s face quickly drop into a frown. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam stated, grabbing a towel to cover his penis. “I can put clothes on, if this makes you uncomfortable—”

He stared for a moment, eyes scanning along Sam’s bare form. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he loved Sam for his nudist tendencies, or that there was such a difference between Sam’s body type and… the one from his nightmares. Either way, it didn’t really bother him at all that Sam was back to wearing nothing in their home. Maybe it would help to have things ease back into normalcy.

Of course, the trauma meant he couldn’t say any of those thoughts out loud, but what he could do was step across the kitchen, grab the towel from Sam, and tuck it back onto the stove handle.

He forced a smile, leaned forward to kiss the corner of Sam’s mouth, before turning and retreating to his new ‘room’. 

So it went for the following six months. 

Castiel, in an effort to find sleep, went back on the medication that his doctor had prescribed _years_ ago for the same issue. One pill turned into two turned into three… turned into a few shots of Jack to wash them down. Work became a struggle — he couldn’t do much more than stock books when he couldn’t communicate with the customers. And even though he didn’t want it to, he knew that his relationship with Sam must also be struggling. They couldn’t touch, every time Sam even tried, Castiel froze in panic and watched in dread as Sam’s face fell along with his hand.

One cold and rainy night, Cas found himself standing in the middle of the St. John’s bridge staring down at the Willamette river, and knew that something had to change. He was there for an hour, standing unmoving on a bridge that he had absolutely no reason to be on, and if he was ever going to be with the man he loved… _touch_ the man he loved, then he needed to find a better answer than the rocky depths below.

It was Sam’s face that had him turning to walk back to the bus stop. Sam’s encouraging voice that had him riding through three bus lines until he was stepping off in front of the Legacy Good Samaritan hospital in west Portland. He walked in through the emergency room doors and up to the check-in desk. When the perky blonde behind the desk asked how she could help, he made a motion with his hand like he was writing on paper, before pointing at her side of the desk. He didn’t trust himself to try and speak the words.

It took her a moment, but finally a paper and pen were slid across the desk.

He scribbled quickly, before sliding the paper back. 

_’My name is Castiel Novak, I have an insurance card. I’m thinking of killing myself. Please call Sam.’_

While she read the note, he slid across his insurance card and cellphone, hoping she would find Sam’s number so that he didn’t worry.

* * *

They kept him there for a twenty-four hour watch, before, on the recommendation of a therapist, moving him to a local mental health treatment facility. Though he didn’t see Sam for the one night he was in the hospital, the nurses made sure that he knew his ‘Sam’ was there. After the trip to the new facility (which was thankfully closer to home in Beaverton), and an hour or so of getting settled into the room he’d be in until the therapist felt things were better, Sam was finally allowed in to visit.

When he walked in the room, Cas was sitting on the bed in a pair of white hospital scrubs and the old tan trenchcoat that he had been wearing when he checked himself in. 

Sam, as soon as he laid eyes on Cas, had tears streaking down his face. He stepped over to the bed, waiting a moment before sitting on the edge next to where Cas was. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” Sam whispered, voice broken with emotion.

Castiel took a deep breath, before nodding. “Sorry,” he managed to make himself say. “L..l… _love_ you,” he stuttered.

Sam looked so broken. He hated to see that look on Sam’s face.

“Can I hug you?” Sam finally asked, reaching up to wipe away his tears.

With another gentle nod, Castiel leaned forward into Sam’s arms and sighed at the peaceful feeling that washed over him. If not for Sam… if not for knowing that someone _finally_ loved him and needed him, Castiel didn’t think he would’ve walked off that bridge.

* * *

Over the next week, Castiel spent a lot of time working through trauma with his new therapist, a guy in his mid-thirties named Henry Wesson who dressed like he was living in the 1950s, which was surprisingly comforting. Despite the fact that they were close in age, Cas sat across from the man and felt like he was speaking to someone much older and wiser. It was, he supposed, what it would probably be like to have a grandfather that you could turn to when needed.

Along with Dr. Wesson, a young woman named Claire sat in on a lot of their sessions. She had been initially introduced in the first group session, where Dr. Wesson had explained that she was still doing her residency and learning the ‘tricks of the trade’ as he put it, and that if a patient felt comfortable enough having her sit in during sessions, it would help with her learning. It was a completely voluntary option, but Castiel found it helped him to talk when there was a female in the room, and he wasn’t locked away with only another male.

Plus, on the few sessions that Dr. Wesson allowed Claire to lead the discussion, Castiel always found himself opening up more.

After the first week, it was Claire that posed the idea of having Sam sit in on a few of their discussions. _’It’s completely up to you, of course, Castiel, but I’ve met Sam and can see the love in his eyes. I think he wants to help you, but doesn’t know how. And it might be easier for you to discuss what has happened, if you have other voices in the room.’_

Which is how, on his ninth day in therapy, Castiel found himself sitting in a room with Dr. Wesson, Claire, and Sam. They each had their own chairs, eliminating any kind of worry about how to arrange seating if a couch was in the room. Cas wanted to be close to Sam, of course, but also wanted to be able to read his face, which would be difficult if they were sitting side by side. 

He had discussed with Claire, that morning, about how it would be easiest for him if she started by explaining the bulk of the situation to Sam while they were all gathered. She had confirmed that was what he wanted, before making sure Dr. Wesson was okay with the idea.

So, that’s how they began. With Claire holding a notebook in her lap and smiling across to Sam. After the pleasantries, she got right to the point — another thing Cas appreciated about her. “I’m sure you’re aware, Sam, that Castiel is here because of a triggering trauma that happened a few months back. He’s asked me to explain the basics of everything, since he’s still struggling verbally on occasion and doesn’t want the words to get stuck. After I’ve explained the base story, Dr. Wesson and I will be here to facilitate questions and answers between the two of you.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, turning to Castiel in the chair next to his. “I want you to know, Cas, that if you aren’t ready for this, it’s okay. I will still love you even if I never know.”

Cas smiled, knowing that Sam was speaking the truth… that was the type of heart the other man had. Castiel held out his hand across the space between their chairs, and when Sam laid his hand in Cas’ open palm, Cas intertwined their fingers and refused to let go, even as he nodded to Claire to proceed.

Instead, it was Dr. Wesson that quickly interjected a reminder, “Now, Sam, it’s important for you to know that what you’ll be hearing will probably cause an immediate reaction of emotions, but how you handle those emotions will affect Castiel immediately. I ask that you try to remain calm until Claire finishes, and then we can take a quick break if you need.”

Sam nodded, and Claire began.


	5. Chapter 5

In total, Castiel spent eighteen days in the hospital. Thankfully, his job had been understanding about his leave of absence, and on Dr. Wesson’s recommendation, extended it another month to ensure that Castiel was ready to face the outside world. 

Sam, pure, sweet, amazing Sam, supported him through everything when he finally got home. Claire recommended they go back to sharing a room — since having someone nearby that could calm him after a nightmare, was a much healthier option than using drugs and alcohol to induce a normal sleep pattern. Despite sleeping in the same room again, Sam never pushed him to touch or, hell, even to wear less to bed. He simply smiled when Cas would step into the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and long sleep pants, and ask if that particular night was ‘okay for cuddles’... a code meaning that Castiel was either okay or not okay with Sam wrapping his arms around him while they slept.

Over the following two months, the nights of cuddle time became more frequent and Castiel’s clothing covered less. He spoke more, opened up about his thoughts, and happily went back to work — especially when they offered to let him transfer to the location in Beaverton… one that he could walk to, rather than spending an hour each day on a crowded train that made him uncomfortable.

One Saturday he woke up without any plans for that particular day, and found his attention drawn to the man lying next to him. He knew, from a conversation the previous evening, that Sam had a late afternoon wedding to make sure cakes and cupcakes were delivered to, but that left them with at least a couple hours before he would need to get ready. 

Even the best of intentions could be undermined by hormones — and on more than a few occasions, Castiel had woken to the feeling of Sam’s hard cock rubbing against his thigh. He usually ignored it, in fear of his own body’s reaction (or any potential awkwardness on Sam’s part), but that morning, he found his own body stirring to life.

He knew for sure that he wasn’t mentally prepared for full intercourse… the thought alone sent up warning bells in his mind; but there was nothing stopping him from touching. 

They had both gone to bed naked the night before (when Sam had raised an eyebrow as Cas dropped his boxers, he had bashfully mumbled that it was hot in their room), so it didn’t take much effort to roll over and face his fiancé, happily kissing along Sam’s neck as he reached down to grasp his length. His touch was met with the softest of moans, and when he raised his head back up, he saw Sam’s hazel eyes blinking away sleep and watching him curiously.

“I uh—” he ducked his head, feeling a bit worried that he’d overstepped. His forehead laid against Sam’s shoulder, and he pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry.” His doctor’s had repeatedly stressed the importance of consent to Sam, and here Cas was just touching like it didn’t matter…

Sam cupped his face, tilting his head back up so their eyes met. “I would _love_ for you to touch me, Cas.” He leaned up, capturing Cas’ lips in a chaste kiss. “Can I touch you as well?”

Biting his lip, Castiel nodded. Instead of reaching down beneath the blankets, though, Sam rolled away for a moment. Before Cas could question the movement, though, Sam was back holding their favorite type of lube. He opened his mouth, ready to shakily tell Sam that he wasn’t ready for _everything_ , but Sam kissed gently at his nose and simply wrapped his large hand around both of their cocks — slick hand stroking gently as his kisses moved to Castiel’s neck.

“I love you so much,” Sam whispered over and over into Cas’ skin.

“So much.”

* * *

When one person in the household spent the majority of his days in the nude… it didn’t equal out to a lot of visitors. In fact, Cas and Sam made it a point to tell their friends not to stop by for surprise visits unless they really did want to be surprised.

Which is why, on that particular Saturday, it was a bit weird to hear a knock on the door in the middle of the day. Castiel looked across the room to where Sam sat perched on a chair with his laptop… and dick laying softly against his thigh. 

“Nose goes,” Sam mused, without looking up from his screen, finger resting against the tip of his nose.

It was a moot point… the apartment management team had asked that if Sam was going to live his particular lifestyle… he refrained from opening the front door while doing so. Castiel set aside his book and moved across the living room to the front door, right as the next knock sounded. 

On the other side of the door, stood an exhausted looking redhead who had one arm holding a suitcase, and the other wrapped around a beat-up… “Dean?”

Before he could contemplate what the sight of the other man would do to setback his therapy (or answer Sam’s questioning tone from behind him), the man in question was falling forward into Castiel’s arms. 

“Sorry!” the redhead stated quickly, shaking out her arm that had been holding Dean up. “He’s heavier than he looks and we had to park like half a mile away.”

She pushed inside as well, closing the door behind her, right as Sam stepped into the foyer in all his naked glory. “Charlie? Oh shit, Dean!” 

The next few minutes were a bit chaotic. Castiel helped Sam lift Dean into the living room and lay him out on the sofa, while Sam relayed instructions to ‘Charlie’ on where to find their first aid kit. Once she was back and working to bandage up the majority of Dean’s wounds, Sam hurried off to the master bedroom to put on clothing since they had guests of the female variety. 

Castiel, feeling a bit helpless, got a pitcher of water from the kitchen and brought it in to sit on the coffee table, along with a few glasses. 

When Sam was back in the room, he demanded an explanation as to why his brother was currently passed out on his sofa, looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

Charlie sat down in one of the chairs with an exhausted sigh. “He showed up at my house a week ago, looking bruised and worn down. Apparently Benny has been abusive the entire relationship, but it’s gotten worse over the last two months, since the wedding, because Benny’s business is tanking. Dean finally decided to split.”

While Charlie caught Sam up on the details, Castiel found himself moving to the edge of the room, a shaky hand holding onto the corner of the wall as he silently watched. He _knew_ what was coming. If Dean was there, if he had escaped Benny, then Benny would be on his way there to find Dean.

In Castiel’s home. His _safe space._

“How did he get like this?” Sam asked, using a cloth to wipe the blood from Dean’s face.

Charlie brushed a hand through her hair. “I had to get food — I wasn’t planning on feeding two, so I was out of the essentials after just a couple days. I thought… I thought we’d be okay. I went while Dean was still asleep. Apparently Benny had tracked his phone and followed him. I came back and he was screaming and beating on Dean; I’m surprised no one had heard and called the cops. I didn’t stop to do that though. I have a taser in my bag, so I tazed Benny and got Dean the hell out of there. Pulled the chip on his phone, made sure to take a weird winding route here, and parked like a mile from here.”

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Sam growled, standing in a rush and beginning to pace around the living room. “First Cas and now this… that bastard doesn’t deserve to live.”

Charlie, thankfully, didn’t question how Castiel fit into the equation. Cas wasn’t mentally prepared to explain his past to a stranger.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charlie said, voice soft as she reached over to brush at Dean’s hair. “I’m pretty sure Benny was out of his mind on drugs when he showed up at my place.”

Sam continued pacing, like her words weren’t breaking through to him. Seeing this, Castiel took a deep breath and walked over to where his fiancé was — stopping him in his tracks and wrapping him up in a tight hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, lips just below Sam’s ear. “Dean is safe. I’m safe. It’s better to stay here, protected, than go out looking for that bastard. We’ll call the police, make a report, and Monday morning we’ll look into a restraining order, okay?”

“Cas—”

“We’re safest together. Please, Sam.” Pulling back, he placed his hands on each side of Sam’s face, catching his gaze. “You know what Dean would love when he wakes up? One of your apple blueberry pies. Remember? We got the apples at the farmer’s market?”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Benny found them a day later. Dean had spent the majority of the time passed out in the spare room thanks to some pain meds and the need to sleep, and Charlie had gone to her girlfriend’s house, figuring she’d give it some time before she went back to her apartment. 

Considering Sam was Dean’s only real family, Castiel was surprised it took Benny as long as it did to find them. Thankfully, they had called the police and spoke with an officer in person about what all had transpired. The officer promised to keep a patrol car nearby in case Benny showed up — so when they called the next evening, after Benny showed up banging loudly on their front door, it only took a quick call before red and blue lights were flashing in their windows.

Of course, Castiel must have been crazy to think that things would resolve themselves simply. Benny — strung out of his mind on what Sam said was probably meth or some other concoction — charged the single officer that stepped out of the car. What followed was a few long seconds of screaming from both parties, before the sound of gunfire had Castiel flinching from his spot around the hallway corner.

Blood rushed in his ears and he barely tasted the salty tears that were suddenly streaming down his face. 

“Cas. Cas!” He tried to catch his breath as he looked up at Sam. “More cars just pulled up, I think it was the officer that fired. Go to the room. Headphones and that music the doctor told you about, okay?”

“I can… I can… I can help,” he managed, but with his whole body shaking the way it was, he knew it was a lie.

“Go to the room. I will be there in ten minutes, I swear.”

Fear ran through his veins. “Don’t go out there!”

Sam shook his head though and gently kissed Cas’ forehead. “I won’t. I’m going to stand right here until the officer calls my phone like he said he would and gives us the all clear, got it?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Castiel took a deep breath and nodded, before allowing Sam to turn him towards their bedroom and push him gently to start his feet moving. On their bed, with Sam’s pillow hugged against his chest, he listened to the calming playlist Claire had put together for him (for when he had panic attacks), and tried to get his breathing to even out as he watched the minutes tick by on the clock.

True to his word, ten minutes later Sam stepped into the room and walked over to sit next to him. Castiel pulled the headphones down and watched his fiancé take a deep breath.

“Just like I suspected,” Sam whispered, “Benny charged at the officer in a rage, and the officer was forced to fire. They’ve taken him to the hospital, but the officer said he’s never seen someone that strung out — that it was probably multiple drugs causing a monster like reaction, and he’s not sure Benny will survive.”

Castiel leaned forward against Sam and shut his eyes. “I hate to say this, I hate to think this way about another human being… but God, I hope he dies.”


	6. Chapter 6

Though he still considered her to be his ‘doctor’ — Castiel’s meetings with Claire had at one point gotten a little more informal. At that week’s meeting (ten days after Benny was pronounced dead at the hospital), they were walking a path that ran along a small creek near Cas and Sam’s apartment. 

“How is Dean?” Claire asked, kicking a rock with her shoe as they went along. Castiel had already filled her in on the events that took place — hell, he had called her and Dr. Wesson the very next day for an emergency appointment — so she was mostly there that day to gauge how he was working through things.

“He hasn’t said much at all. Just a couple of words since he arrived. We’ve got him settled in the spare room though, and someone delivered some of his things from Benny’s house — a friend of Dean’s that wasn’t a part of Benny’s crew. We didn’t really ask questions on how they were able to make that happen, but at least Dean has his laptop and stuff now.”

“Everything still moving forward with Sam? I know everything with Benny has been a setback in your recovery, but I hope it isn’t coming between you two again.”

“We’re still good. Sam has been moving around the house in clothes more, but I think that’s mostly for Dean’s benefit and the fact that Sam doesn’t want to force the lifestyle on Dean without his approval. And Dean isn’t really in a spot to give consent.”

“And you, Cas? How are you? Do you feel like this has brought some sort of conclusion to everything?”

“It’s weird, because every day I have a different answer to that question. Some days I wake up and I’m eternally grateful that the bastard is dead; other days, I hate myself for thinking that about another human being. I mean… some kids get messed up when they’re in the system. Maybe Benny was doing drugs all along and that’s why things played out the way they did. I’ll never know.”

“Survivor’s guilt is a real thing. And I think it’s valid for you to have these contrasting emotions and thoughts — don’t close yourself off to one idea or the other, but chose to slowly work through why you are feeling both ways and accept both sides.”

* * *

It was maybe because he had _literally_ just gone through the same thing, that Castiel was able to see the signs of Dean’s depression before it hit a breaking point. It started with hearing the nightmares, noticing the lack of desire to eat, seeing that dead-inside look in eyes that sparkled green in photos Sam had on the walls.

One night, when Sam was already in bed and Cas didn’t have to work the next day, Castiel got up and went back out into the living room to find Dean staring at a blank television screen and holding a full glass of bourbon. Sam and Castiel had both tried to get Dean to talk about the things that he had been through in the months prior to and after the wedding, but had never gotten much of an answer. There also seemed to be some kind of sick/weird sympathy for Benny’s death, which was completely understandable, even if it didn’t make things easier.

He sat down in the space next to Dean, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and sitting sideways so that he was facing the other man. Sam and Castiel had mutually decided to focus on Dean’s trauma, without going into specifics about how Castiel was connected to Benny until they felt that it was needed. It also helped give Cas time to come to terms with discussing the whole mess with someone other than his doctors and Sam. It was Claire, earlier that day at his appointment with her, that had suggested how talking to Dean about Cas’ past might help both of them move forward beyond Benny’s death.

Dean blinked, turning to look at Castiel with a hollow gaze. It was amazing how the scars of abuse could change someone so drastically. The stories that Sam told about his brother... painted a completely different picture of the man that Dean used to be.

“I grew up in foster care,” Castiel said, voice gentle. “I jumped from house to house for a while, before finally settling into a situation that lasted for a bit. It was fine at first — I mean, the parents didn’t care about anything but a state paycheck, but I had my own room for a while and everything was good. Then a new kid moved in. Couple years older, demanded everyone call him _Slash._ ” Reaching across the space between them, Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s glass of liquor and pulled it away from him, quickly taking a long swallow of it, to psyche himself up for finishing the story. “For a while, he had a girlfriend and didn’t care about me. Then she dumped him and suddenly I was the center of his frustration. For the next three years, he did everything he could to make my life hell. He... raped me... _over and over._ Threatened to kill me if I ever said a word, because who would care about another dead system kid? I didn’t have any choice but to live through the pain, and I had no idea how it would affect the rest of my life.” His eyes drifted to the hallway, thoughts going to where Sam lay in the other room. “I only tried sleeping with others two times, before I met Sam. Tried it with a female once... and couldn’t even stay hard. Then I tried with a guy in college, but he wanted me to bottom and I blacked out through the entire thing.”

“I—”

Castiel looked back up at Dean, watching the other man as he obviously tried to find words. He shook his head, “I’m not telling you any of this to try and make your trauma seem like less. I don’t think it’s fair to compare the things that people experience and how they handle those experiences.” He handed the drink back to Dean, and took a long drawn out breath. Once Dean had swallowed down the last of the drink, Castiel continued his story. “I’m telling you this, Dean, because you and I have a connection. That kid that ruined my childhood? He grew up to be the same man that tortured you. When I saw him at the wedding, I knew immediately... even after twenty years. I could never forget that face; those eyes. That's why I had such a negative reaction that day.”

Dean let out a huff of humorless laughter. “Probably shoulda took that as a sign.”

“Maybe.” Cas picked at a stray string on his sleep pants. “I almost killed myself a few months back. After seeing him at the wedding, I was pretty much in a permanent catatonic state — I couldn’t talk, couldn’t vocalize to anyone what was going on in my head and why I was having so many issues. Finally, one day I found myself standing on a bridge and all I could think about was how responsible Sam would feel if I killed myself. You know Sammy... he would have spent the rest of his life wondering if there was more that he could do to get through to me and prevent that outcome. So I turned around, made my way to the hospital and checked myself in under suicide watch.”

“Shit, man,” Dean whispered, voice sounding broken with emotion.

When Castiel looked over at him, he noticed the tears streaking down Dean’s face, the way that his hand was shaking as he held his glass. “I know you’re there, Dean. I can see the emptiness in your eyes. And I also know that if any loss would affect Sam more than my death... it would be losing you. So tell me how I can help you. Tell me what I can do to bring you back from that edge.”

* * *

That conversation seemed to change things. Finally, Dean seemed more active in the day to day world, and though he wasn’t back to his old self, he was eating meals regularly and had taken Castiel’s advice and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Wesson.

The nightmares were still bad, though. There was absolutely no hiding that fact. Castiel had always been overly affected by his dreams — kids without much were left with their own imaginations, and thus they could imagine almost anything — but had never experienced the type of waking up with screams nightmares that Dean was experiencing.

One night, after yet another room shattering scream, Castiel looked over at Sam, and noticed hazel eyes watching him closely.

“Go,” Sam whispered. Cas’ eyebrows raised in question, and Sam shook his head. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work with me. He needs someone that understands, not a little brother that he feels obligated to make happy.”

Castiel frowned, feeling the familiar sinking ugliness in his gut. He had gotten closer to Dean — it wasn’t hard when they had so much in common — and recently that closeness had lead to uncomfortable feelings of what could best be described as _desire._ Which wasn’t right. He loved Sam... wanted to _marry_ Sam and spend the rest of his life with Sam.

There was no room for dirty desire in regards to Sam’s brother... no matter how badly he wanted to help Dean.

“You know,” Sam continued, “I’m not mad. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you two are around each other... It’s okay for you to love him too.”

“But it’s not.”

Sam sat up, sliding a bit closer to Cas and reaching out to grasp his hand. “Says who? Society? Do we seem like a typical couple to you, Cas? People aren’t designed to only love one person. Historically, we evolved from a race that lived in groups... _families and packs._ Doesn’t it make sense that some of us would still feel that way? Does loving him make you love me less?”

Castiel shook his head, quickly looking back up to meet Sam’s gaze. “Never. Of course not.”

“Then go.” Sam leaned forward and kissed him gently. When the kiss broke, he smiled. “I’ll be here. Forever.”

He waited another moment, stole another kiss, before finally rolling out of the bed and moving over to the bedroom door. He gave a moment's pause at the state of his dress... it was warm out and he was wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs. He could change... could pull on sweatpants and a shirt, but maybe Dean’s sleep would be calmed by the comfort of skin on skin. He decided to go as he was, quietly leaving the master bedroom and walking across the hall to Dean’s room.

He tapped lightly on the door, before twisting the knob and pushing it open. The screaming had died down, but through the moonlight in the room, Castiel could see that the other man was still tossing and turning constantly in the bed... obviously still seeing his demons in his dreams.

Closing the door behind him, Castiel crossed the floor and pulled up the sheets on the extra side of the bed, before crawling in next to Dean. The first touch of a gentle hand on Dean’s shaking shoulder, caused a pained whimper to sound that was hauntingly familiar. _’All or nothing,’_ he thought to himself. Snuggling down in the bed, he reached out and wrapped his arms completely around Dean’s torso. The other man froze initially, obviously unsure about the contact even in his sleep, but after a calm moment, Castiel could feel him slowly beginning to relax into the touch.

Good.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_“I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Blue-Eyed Devil_

* * *

At dawn, sunlight pouring in through the east facing window of Dean’s bedroom had Castiel blinking his eyes open far earlier than he wanted. He was still wrapped around Dean, but the other man was now facing him and also awake. “Hey,” Cas whispered.

Dean’s face scrunched up. “Why are you here?” His eyes flicked towards the door, like he maybe expected Sam to burst in and get angry or jealous.

“You were having a rough night and Sam suggested that I might be what you needed. He said… that when he’s here, he can see that you’re trying to put on a brave face for your brother. But he can also see that there is something between us, and that maybe a heart is big enough to love two people at once.”

The words seemed to confuse Dean even more. “Are you trying to tell me that my brother wants to share his boyfriend with me?”

Sam had made it sound so much sweeter. “If you want to put it so bluntly, sure.”

“I don’t—”

“It doesn’t have to be anything, Dean. I’m simply here while you need me. And I know that despite everything, despite moving forward and Dr. Wesson’s help… the nightmares are still wearing you down. So I’m here.”

* * *

Nothing was ever that simple, of course. It took two weeks, and numerous quietly spoken conversations between the brothers, before Dean finally stopped on the way to bed one night, looked over to where Cas and Sam were sitting on the sofa, and asked, “Cas… will you sleep in my room tonight?”

Castiel smiled, feeling his heart soar a bit at the sight of the shy smile on Dean’s face. Dean had gotten a job at a local gas station, and was due to start in a couple of days… and obviously dealing with the nervousness and anxiety of getting back out into the world. Before Castiel could answer affirmatively, Sam squeezed his hand, leaned over to kiss his cheek… and all but pushed Castiel off of the couch.

He laughed, shaking his head and turning back to stick his tongue out at Sam, before walking over to where Dean still stood waiting patiently. He followed Dean down the hall, but stopped at the door to the master bedroom. “I’m going to brush my teeth real quick and change into my pajamas.”

“Oh.” Dean opened his bedroom door, looked inside for a moment, before looking back at Cas. “You can just sleep in what you normally sleep in. If you want. If it’s more comfortable.”

He grinned. “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

After quickly brushing his teeth, Cas grabbed his pillow from the bed and was just about to step out of the room, when he paused, eyes tracking over to the bedside table. He froze, wondering whether or not he should grab _supplies_ in case things got heated. It would be more convenient to already have them in the room, but it was also presumptuous to assume that Dean would want that or even be ready for that. Suddenly a body pressed up against his side, and a familiar voice tickled softly at his ear. “I stocked some condoms and lube in the drawer beside his bed,” Sam breathed. “Go make him feel amazing.”

Castiel looked up at Sam, waiting only a moment before surging up to kiss Sam properly. “I love you,” he whispered against Sam’s lips.

“Love you too. Now go take care of our boy.”

* * *

The light was still on in Dean’s room, and Dean sat patiently on one side of the bed, legs crossed in front of him, naked except for a pair of boxers. Castiel shut the door, carried his pillow over to the head of the bed on the side that Dean had left available, and then slowly began stripping down to his own underwear.

“With Sam…” Dean started, voice quiet, “Do you… are you…” He hesitated, eyes glued to where his hands were clenching and unclenching. “Do you top or bottom?”

Once in his boxer-briefs, Castiel slowly sat on the bed. “I’ve only ever topped, with Sam. After—” he sighed, “after _Slash_ , the only other time I tried to bottom, I didn’t get a lot out of the experience. In fact, I don’t really remember the experience because the guy was just some college douchebag that didn’t care. But I didn’t want my issues with bottoming to ruin anything with Sam, and I also could never find the words to tell him about my past, until therapy forced it out.”

Dean nodded. “I’ve known I was bisexual since high school, but Benny was my first male partner. He, of course, would never lower himself to the role of being the _bitch_ , so that’s all I know.” 

Cas reached across the space between them, slowly tracing his fingertips along the top of Dean’s hand, up his arm. “For you, Dean, I’m willing to try bottoming. You need to try all aspects of the male/male dynamic in order to know your preferences. And, to be honest, I think this could be a healing experience for both of us.”

“I don’t think I could handle you not enjoying it—”

Castiel moved his hand up to cup Dean’s face. “Then _help_ me to enjoy it.”

He let Dean lead completely — giving himself up to possibly the sweetest kisses he’d ever had, as he fell back onto the mattress. If he had expected Dean to be shy about what he was doing, he was definitely proven wrong quite quickly. Once he got over the first hurdle of anxiety about what they were doing, Dean turned into the man that Castiel would like to believe he was before everything went wrong in life.

There were no rushed movements. In fact, Dean spent so long opening Castiel up with his fingers and mouth, that Castiel was a whining, whimpering mess by the time that he finally pulled away. He heard himself begging over and over, voice as soft as a whisper, “ _Please, Dean._ ”

There was reverence in those green eyes as Dean made sure Castiel was ready, before finally… _finally_ , sliding into Cas. Dean looked at him like Castiel was a masterpiece and Dean was starving artist wanting to trace each line.

And he wasn’t sure if it was the emotions, the fact that they were finally moving forward together, or if it was the bodily reaction to the actual act… but in that moment everything seemed so…

_...perfect._

* * *

From that point on, they had a system. Every other night, Castiel would switch off which room he slept in. It worked well, and helped to keep him from feeling like he was sharing too much time with one brother, and not enough with the other. When they went out to dinner, all three of them, Castiel made it a rule that the brothers had to sit next to each other, across from him, so that he didn’t have to pick a side. Sam found the whole thing amusing, and Dean usually ducked his head bashfully when Castiel put on his demanding voice.

Dean only lasted three months at the gas station, but it wasn’t because he couldn’t _do_ the job, it was simple because he didn’t feel challenged enough, and wanted to try his hand at something else. Over the next six months, he went from working on cars, to selling cars, to finally finding a job at a local company that designed and refurbished retro RVs and travel trailers. The owner of the place let Dean help with decisions on design ideas, and quickly grew to love the concepts that Dean was coming up with. It was a perfect fit.

On the one year anniversary of Benny’s death, Cas and Sam talked things over and decided that the best way to keep Dean’s mind off of things, would be a vacation… far away from his normal day-to-day. 

They ended up in Vegas, of all places, which was equal parts good and bad for all of them. Well… good for them, bad for their savings account.

“Nothing reminds me more of the fact that I’m gay, than seeing the way that men ogle women’s breasts. I just… they’re aesthetically pleasing, yes, but I don’t get it? Is it just so that they can have something to hold onto while they fuck?” Castiel asked, eyes focused on the ad for a local strip joint that someone had handed him. 

“You’re drunk, you always get philosophical when you’re drunk,” Sam mused, walking along his right side with a hand tucked into Castiel’s back pocket. 

On the other side of Cas, Dean was smiling like a lovesick fool, obviously amused by Cas’ rant. “Cas, love,” Dean stated, fingers intertwined with Cas’. “Men like to push them together and fuck them.”

“What!” Castiel gasped, looking at his boyfriend in shock. “You lie!”

Dean laughed. “Nope.”

“That is disgusting.”

Sam pinched his ass. “You regularly stick your dick in a place that is usually used for getting _rid_ of things.”

“Poop!” Dean said, a little too loudly. He might not be as philosophical as Castiel… but he was definitely _just_ as drunk.

Castiel suddenly stopped, causing both brothers to stumble a bit, thanks to how tangled around him they were. His eyes focused on the building before them, and he felt his heart race. He remembered a conversation from almost two years prior, when he and Sam had been walking to Dean’s wedding rehearsal dinner. 

_“Do you ever think about marriage?” he asked, curious gaze looking over at his boyfriend._

_“Sometimes. I would love the opportunity to promise my life to someone. I wouldn’t go to this big elaborate expense, though.” Sam turned to meet his eyes. “I’d just fly you down to Vegas and marry you in front of Elvis.”_

Castiel stared up at the sign that was offering wedding ceremonies officiated by Elvis himself. Dean seemed to catch on first, with what Cas was looking at, because he suddenly became very excited as he moved to stand so that he was facing Cas and Sam.

“You two should get married!”

Sam frowned, “Wha’?”

Castiel nudged him, pointing at the small chapel before them. “Remember?” Had he told Dean that story? Probably. In the quiet of their bedroom, wrapped up in each other, Dean and Cas often shared random stories from their past… talking just to get the other to fall asleep.

Looking up at the chapel, Sam spent a long time staring at the sign, before shaking his head and turning back to the other two men. “No. Not like this.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean spoke up, “It might not be the most original idea, but you can’t deny the opportunity—”

Sam, the soberest of the three of them, looked from Dean to Cas, making sure to settle on staring into Cas’ blue eyes. “Charlie and I have been talking… _planning_ some things. She knows our situation, right? And she said it isn’t fair to all of us, if only one couple is promised forever. So we’ve been working on putting together a private ceremony where we can all be promised to each other.”

Castiel felt like crying as the meaning behind Sam’s words broke through the drunken haze. “Bowties?” he asked, smile on his face.

“Only if Dean here is okay with people seeing his dick.”

“I’m lost,” Dean piped in. “Are we getting married? Or just showing off my dick?”

Castiel and Sam both laughed, but now that dicks were being mentioned, Castiel couldn’t help but suggest: “Let’s go back to our room…”


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

_“It is always important to know when something has reached its end. Closing circles, shutting doors, finishing chapters, it doesn't matter what we call it; what matters is to leave in the past those moments in life that are over.” ― Paulo Coelho, The Zahir_

* * *

Charlie performed what they officially called their ‘promise’ ceremony, in the backyard of a three bedroom home they had finally signed the papers on just a few months prior. It had a privacy fence around the entire backyard… as well as fifteen foot tall trees that blocked out any other possible looky-loos. Thanks to the privacy allowed them in their new home… the wedding ceremony was very much _casual_ attire. As planned, all three grooms wore nothing but black bowties… something that Dean grumbled about for at least forty hours, leading up to the ceremony.

“I’m not eating cake naked,” he’d said, laying on the left side of a large specially made (king and then some sized) bed in their master suite. At some point the brothers had grown comfortable enough with their living arrangement to realize it made more sense for all three men to share a room, rather than forcing Castiel to switch back and forth. So Castiel spent every night smooshed in the middle of what he lovingly called his favorite type of sandwich — The Double Winchester.

Sam was already softly snoring on Cas’ right side — since he was the early bird in their household, he always went to sleep quickest — so Cas rolled to face his left and placed his hand on Dean’s naked stomach. “We’ll have boxers for after the ceremony and pictures, Dean. You don’t have to eat cake naked… even though I would gladly lick up every drop that you spilled.”

Dean turned, nuzzling his nose against Castiel’s. “I’m sure our guests would just _love_ to see that.”

“Some more than others.”

The room was quiet for a long moment, before Dean’s voice sounded again. “We made Uncle Bobby swear to wear clothes, right? I mean, I love the old guy, but I’m not sure my retinas can handle that hairy madness.”

Castiel pulled away, beginning to roll to face the other direction, “And on that note, I think I’m going to snuggle with Sammy now.”

“Not fair, Cas…” _Silence._ “What if it’s cold and my dick is tiny? What will people think?”

A pillow went flying in Dean’s direction, and simultaneously, the cuddled pair on the other side of the bed growled, “Go to sleep!”

* * *

\--- **Sometime in the Future** \---

* * *

Dr. Claire Wesson sat in the corner of a Starbucks in downtown Beaverton, Oregon and watched as her favorite client-slash-friend walked in, waved happily in her direction, and went to the counter to order what would probably be a peppermint white chocolate mocha, since there was snow falling outside and Castiel Novak’s coffee choices were nothing if not predictable.

When the man finally sat down across from her, he had a grin a mile wide on his face. “How was the honeymoon? I’m trying to convince the brothers to go on a trip to Costa Rica, but you know how Dean is with flying.”

Claire laughed, sipping at her own chai latte before answering, “It was amazing. When Henry first suggested getting married in November, I thought he was insane — who wants a cold honeymoon, right? But the tropics were perfect.”

It had been at Castiel’s own wedding when Claire had first started to realize that maybe all of those late nights working with her mentor Henry Wesson, were leading up to something more. She’d actually confided in Castiel (during a non-official lunch meet up) about her feelings, and had him to thank for forcing her to make the first move.

She’d probably have to name her firstborn after him now. She shook her head with a chuckle. “So, how are the boys? Last time you texted me, you said there was some arguing going on between them. Anything big?”

“No, just… Dean brought up something that none of us had really discussed, and I think Sam got a bit more upset about it than we were expecting.”

“Oh?”

“We were watching a documentary on polyamorous couples one night, and Dean asked if that’s what we would officially be designated as. I said sure, without thinking too much of it, and then he asked what we thought about him dating someone else as well. Following with the poly theme and allowing for multiple loves.”

_Huh._ She had to admit to herself that she was a bit surprised that it was Dean who was bringing up such questions — she could have seen it from Sam or even Castiel, but apparently she didn’t know Dean as well as she thought she did. That was the trouble with learning most things secondhand. “And Sam got upset?”

“He thinks Dean is using polyamory as an excuse to get laid outside of our relationship. Which is exactly what he accused him of, which turned into this big fight about how Dean was capable of doing more than just thinking with his dick and didn’t Sam know him at all…” Castiel rubbed at his temples before taking a long drink of his coffee.

Claire definitely had her own ideas on exactly why Sam was upset… but kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t the time or the place. “What do you think? Do you think he legitimately believes he could love another partner?”

“Actually… yeah, I do. I think anyone is capable of loving multiple partners. It’s just that society tries to fit everyone into the monogamy box, which leads to partners breaking up with a new love interest arrives.” Cas shrugged his shoulders, peeling at the cardboard wrap on his cup. “I don’t think Sam realizes that Dean isn’t this sex-crazed maniac that he was when they were younger. After… after Benny, sex for him is something I can only see him doing with someone he trusts. I mean, I feel the same way, you know?”

Claire nodded in understanding. “So if Dean came home today and said he was seeing someone, you would be okay with that?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “I shouldn’t be the only one around here with two partners, you know?”

“Fair enough.” A thought occurred to her suddenly, “Would you feel the same if it was Sam, dating someone else?”

That seemed to make Castiel pause and think about his answer carefully. “Maybe. I would be open to it, but I think I might struggle a bit more with accepting it. Not because I love one brother more than the other, but simply because Sam and I have been partners for so long now—”

“I guess I can see that. You were committed to being just a duo before things developed with Dean, so in some ways your mind still reflects back to that commitment.”

Before Cas could reply, his cellphone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, only to have his face completely scrunch up as he tucked the phone away again. “Better yet, maybe I’ll just kill them both and be single, since they’re trying to get me to play favorites and pick a side.”

That made her laugh. “I think I will happily settle with just one partner, for now. Keeping Henry happy is enough for me.”

“You sure you don’t want to trade? Sam bakes and Dean cleans… what more could you ask for?”

“The only one brave enough to handle _two_ Winchesters, is you, Castiel.” She smirked, “Or… stupid enough.”


	9. Chapter 9

\--- **A Prequel to the Sequel** \---

* * *

Dean had branched out after two years of remodeling RVs, and started his own company. He’d set aside money and leased a small shop, before outfitting it with the proper equipment that he’d need to succeed. He had never realized how much he liked drawing designs until he was in charge of that aspect as well. He had planned on hiring a drafter to help out, but found he had the talent, and only needed to use a drafter on contract basis when he had more than one project going at once.

Since people knew his designs by name, his business grew quickly and he soon hired enough good men and women to keep up with everything. Folks that loved the work as much as he did.

It was October, when he got an email through his website from a new client that was looking to get help building a tiny home on some property he’d bought in the city. _”I know it’s not normally your thing, but I’ve got a friend with one of your custom Airstreams and I love your design style. Could we meet up to discuss my ideas?”_

He had actually been looking to branch out into mobile ‘tiny’ houses, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. He set up the appointment to meet with the man — a Mr. Tran — and anxiously awaited the upcoming date. Of course, he got super busy the following week and by Friday afternoon he had completely forgotten that he agreed to meet with the man after everyone else left for the day.

Which is how he found himself working through closing down the office, when the bell sounded on the front door. He looked up, ready to tell the person they were closed, and frowned. 

His mouth opened to speak, but the man before him spoke first, one hand reaching out across the desk while the other pushed up a pair of dark rimmed glasses. “You must be Dean! I’ve read so much about you. Your designs are amazing. I’m Jimmy. Jimmy Tran.”

_Tran._ Dean continued to frown as he cautiously reached out to shake the man’s hand. Though they had never roleplayed before (and definitely wouldn’t without first talking it over), he was pretty sure he was being duped. “Hi.”

The man quickly produced a bundle of wrapped papers. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought along my preliminary design ideas. I’m hoping you can help with some of the layout issues. Why are bathrooms so hard to design? Do you find that problem a lot?” _Jimmy_ chuckled nervously, “I’m blabbering, aren’t I? Is that why you’re looking at me like I’m crazy? Sorry. I… sorry. I don’t do well with people, you know? Books I get, people are crazy…”

It wasn’t a joke, Dean realized. He had stared at Castiel’s face enough to know every single laugh line… and he knew _for sure_ that the scar over Jimmy’s right eyebrow was not on Castiel’s face. He shook himself, shook away the shock of seeing someone that was nearly identical to the man he loved. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to be rude. You just… you look really familiar, and I guess it caught me off guard, ya know?”

Now that he had noticed one difference, he began to notice others — Jimmy’s hair was much shaggier than Castiel’s had ever been (it almost rivaled the length of Sam’s!), and Dean knew for sure that Castiel had walked out of the house that morning with a hickey on his neck (because Dean had been damn proud of putting it there) that no amount of makeup would ever cover.

_Twins._ They had to be. 

Cas had a brother. Huh.

He didn’t know how to proceed with that information.

“Why don’t you come back into my office and we’ll look at those plans, eh?”

“Awesome! Yeah. Great.”


End file.
